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vampiricakatt 29, Female, Minnesota, USA - 102 entries

May 2010
6:59 AM EDT

down for the count

bam Thump i hit the floor
no one notices my screams and yells for help
I feel the blood trickle down my cheek
I feel the pain inside of me
The blood has spread to my lips
inside my mouth with a busted lip
I feel the hot tears go down
my cheek as I cry
He stands over me wishing i would die
Everything he's done
everything he's said
Was a lie
and always will be.
By
Katt Chapman

Tags: Hurt, pain, Sorrow

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GirlWithAPen 28, Female, Indiana, USA - 28 entries

May 2010
5:47 PM EDT

It just struck me, "Why hadn't I thought of doing this before?" I used to live in a constant fear that someone would pick up my journal and start reading it when I wasn't in the room. I used to carry my notebooks into the bathroom with me for the sake of Peter! Yet there was something about it that was secretly delicious, like I was somehow sly because I had made it so far without anyone reading it... or so I thought. Until my brother decided to start scribbling little notes down in margins. That was about the time when I started guarding them with my life. I still kind of miss flipping through flimsy, ink-stained pages just to gaze upon the multitude of paragraphs I had written. I would write about every little thought that popped into my head all day- religion, politics, psychology, and yet still those little petty things that almost all twelve-year-old girls think about. Sometimes, I would think that all the things I wrote about would spill into what I talked about, making me a more socially disagreeable person, but it turns out that it was quite opposite. The less I write about these things, the more short and quick my temper has become. I find myself turning red in the face when I "discuss" these things with some of the most stubborn and unthoughtful people. Then I become unable to remind myself that arguing with these people is pointless, because they take it upon themselves to believe that they know all and will refuse to see reason. I'm becoming quite the John Adams. (But at least the people he argued with had and IQ level above that of a chimpanzee.) Then again, what can you expect from junior high students?

DISCLAIMER: Not everyone that I "discuss" with is purely infantile. There are a few whose maturity is at quite an acceptable height.

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GirlWithAPen 28, Female, Indiana, USA - 28 entries

May 2010
4:58 PM EDT

I've taken to the habit of doing something I like to call "napkin art". When I go to cafes or restaurants, I doodle on my napkin. I write little witticisms and short poems. I'll draw cartoony pictures that make little sense to the dull eye and much to the keen, and I always leave a message that says something along the lines of "I hope this napkin brightened your day! :D" Even though I know that it will probably be thrown into the rubbish bin before it's read, it's a nice feeling. I never sign them though. I can't bring myself to do it. Like when I graded myself on my group project for art, I couldn't bring myself to write 10/10, even though I knew I deserved it. The other thing I wanted to touch on is my peculiar reading habits. When I read a book, I'm a noisy reader. I laugh out loud at funny parts, sometimes I gasp, other times I make sarcastic comments about what the author wrote. I do this everywhere. In class. On trains, planes, and buses. In cafes and restaurants. I just can't seem to contain myself. Lastly, I was mulling over what it's like to be a minister's daughter earlier today. There are several rules to it- 1. Smile at everyone on Sunday morning. Even the most annoying people. 2. No swearing, no pseudo-swearing. 3. If there's food in the house, don't touch it until you've asked what it's for. (It may be for church dinners, charity auctions, out-reach- you just never know.) 4. Never bother the minister when he appears to be napping, because quite often, he's not. 5. Never tell what the minster is really like to anyone in the congregation. Ex) what he watches on TV, what he says when he gets angry, the type of crude jokes he makes. All of it is taboo. It's not quite as hard as it sounds, it's just that people like to think of preacher's kids as little all-american angels, when really, I'm just about 1/4 pure German and I wished I lived somewhere that wasn't here (Definition of "Here" in the sense of "Where I Live" in The Updated Dictionary of Mariah- (noun) an uncultured hellhole that sucks your sanity away like the vacuum of a black hole. A place in which people are easily fascinated and fill their lives with petty drama because they have nothing better to do with their lives that they themselves have made pathetic (even I have)) I know I should really try to make the best of things, but it seems quite difficult considering I've been maturing at 2x speed and my classmates have been maturing -2x speed. Honestly, I don't mind the congregation. There are plenty of nice people who try their best to make their meager lives significant and that's really what I wish I could say of the other people my age, but they seem to be so intent on keeping up the norm of teenage existence that they forget that they won't be teenagers forever. (I'm terrible at wrapping up my rants, so I'm just going to end it here. Ciao.)

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1 comment(s) - 08:17 PM - 05/13/2010

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whoami? 40, Female, Nebraska, USA - 60 entries

May 2010
2:30 PM CST

Talk

I just need to talk. To anyone, to anything. Let out my emotions, my thoughts, my fears, my regrets, my beliefs, my passions, my desires. I just need to let it all out, to someone! So anyone willing to spend hours in conversation with me, God bless their soul. Amos would talk to me for as long as we possibly could. We could talk and talk about anything and everything, but for the most part things that really mattered. Things that I was truly passionate about, confused about, mad about, sad about. And he would make it all better. That meant a lot to me and that gesture found its way to the deepest part of my heart and that in turn sent some sort of message to my brain to decide to totally and completely fall for him while in that strange sort of bliss we had found ourselves. Of course, as with any state of anything, it is just that, a state. It holds no permanency and so things fade, things change, some states come and then disappear never to return again-I think that's what happened with the little romance between the two of us. That for many many reasons that I care not to sit here and type out, but one of those reasons being that I just needed to talk. And he was there. As a great, wonderful, perfectly available friend. It didn't need to be anything more than that�but because we let it go further we ruined everything. Now neither of us has the friend we had before in each other to confide in and share life's deepest burdens with. It's a sad deal really, and a really sad deal.

I am most definitely thankful for friends though. Lisa sure is one of those that I will always appreciate. It's so great to be home and spend time with her. After a two hour little chat tonight, lasting until none other than 2am, I am most pleased, grateful and relieved. It was just amazing to get so much off of my chest and out of this big ol brain�I lug around filled with thoughts beyond what it can handle. Goodness, for as much as I revealed to her, I can about assume my brain was about to overheat, or explode or at least have some sort of malfunction or breakdown. I think I could even feel it coming, and there again is the reason for this new blog and my hours of conversation I've been having lately with Lisa, oh and Bob. But Bob was more of conversation about similar interests and hobbies. Great nonetheless, and also just what the doctor ordered in the process of getting me to take better care of myself.� So how very thankful I am to have great friends, old and new, to share healing conversations with.

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CraderChic98 27, Female, Louisiana, USA - 9 entries

May 2010
12:16 PM EDT

BUM BUM BUM

ohhhh
Lollipop
Lollipop
Oh Lolli, Lolli, Lolli,
Lollipop!
Ba dum bum bum

Tags: insperational

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GirlWithAPen 28, Female, Indiana, USA - 28 entries

May 2010
5:42 PM EDT

My locker is the very last eighth grade locker in the entirety of the eighth grade hallway and there are four seventh graders with lockers right close to mine. Yesterday, the two next to me caught a whiff of something that they thought was unpleasant-tempera paint. I can't help the fact that I always smell horribly of paint. We rotate our extra classes and right now, I'm in the art rotation. It ties with foreign languages for the best. And since next year, I won't be taking an art class because I was accepted to the student publications class (yearbook). So I've been working my bass off on all of my art projects. Right now, we're doing group projects, and when I'm in the group, they become Mariah Projects, but the art teacher, Mrs. H, has been getting on us about not working as a group. It was a project on Jackson Pollock that I just finished *wipes sweat from forehead*. Unfortunately, because it's not hard enough, we weren't allowed to just drip paint for the entire project.So I stayed up late doing a recreation of "The Key". She had better be happy with it, because I went out and bought my own posterboard, my own paints, and my own brushes, just because the other members of my group weren't mature enough to use hers. But really, the point of this was how prissy these two seventh graders are. Apparently, I'm revolting- I don't straighten my hair (I actually let it air-dry on my way to school, so it's really frizzy), I wear no makeup, I'm not athletic (a sin in their book), and I constantly smell like paint of some type or other, or of a theater makeup room (not a very pleasant odor either). Well it's late, and I still have to print out the written portion. Ciao.

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whoami? 40, Female, Nebraska, USA - 60 entries

May 2010
2:45 PM CST

Living someone elses life

So day number one of having this online journal. I think I'll like it�as it might be a solution to the problem that my mind moves�much faster than my hands can direct a pencil. I don't even like writing so I don't see how I've even made it this long with writing in my journal. Probably has a lot to do with poetry. My version of shorthand. Something that can keep up with my thoughts.

The thing that spurred this on was getting into a blog for a housewife. One that ran off to L.A. dated a surfer guy for four years and then decided to spend some time at home with mom and dad. She fell in love with a cowboy and suddenly turned from a�high-heal wearing vegetarian to a meat eating cattleman's wife. Such a beautiful�love story, but so delicious in my mind, too much makes me want to puke. At points I was so enthralled by the romance of it all that I almost forgot it wasn't my life, I was�a single, miserable 25 year old who is in the midst of living out her "dream" in another state�while constantly longing for HOME. It was this great state of bliss where I was living in her life, being swept up off my feet by some handsome chivirous cowboy in small town USA. Oh if only....oh wait I experienced that, and it blew up in my face...which brings me to the next state of emotions I found myself passing through as I read her blog.

There were other times when there was some sort of�drama or internal conflict in the story and just like me, I adopted it as my own, finding just the perfect similarties in our lives and then sitting here moarning my own drama, both past, present and future, go figure.��As I wallowed in my misery I�stooped to that lovely state of depression and self-pity that I so often find myself. Wishing for my love story, wondering if it will in fact ever really occur. I have experienced every level of love up to the point of really experiencing true love, and this in itself is enough to cause a gret deal of internal misery and conflict. I want love, I don't want love, love doesn't exist, it does exist, my time will come, it will never happen for me, and on and on and on it goes. Same deal different day.

So the question is: will true love ever find its way to me? And on the coattails of that question comes: will I ever find my true identity?

God has apparently called me for some great higher purpose, but it seems that in order to fulfill that purpose I must be living in some distant land, where money, expansion, and food is the god of choice. Three gods that I'd rather not toy with, but in this case must live with. What a joy, believe me.

Is it obvious that I am holding some bitter grudge in regards to this scenario? Like someone is to blame for casting me to this distant island, for giving me these crazy desires and passions, when in fact aren't these all my own? Or are they placed there by God, my author and creator, who has the dreams and desires for my life and has placed them in my heart? If only I could settle this question in my mind.

If I think back, I am the one who chose this life, therefore I am the one who should be held responsible. So the only one to blame or hold bitterness towards is me. But why the bitterness in the first place? Isn't my life good? Don't I have all I need? Am I lacking anything? Yes, yes, no. I think it's the simple matter of "the grass is always greener". I want simplicity. I want love. I want peace. I want serenity. I want all I can't seem to find in this distant land in which I live. This is no new problem by the way. This�is one I carry�with me�in my back pocket. I had my�time living the small town life, for 18 years, and I was dying to leave. Once I did,�once I ran away as far as I could without it being too rebelious, I found myself in such a similar position. Dying to get out, dying to leave, and hating every minute of my existence because of the way I had chosen to live my life.��So what did I do? I ran again, but�the next place I found myself, was pure paradise. My garden of grace, peace, love, acceptance, joy, laughter and smiles.�A place I could have stayed�forever had fate allowed me. But God decided that wasn't where�I�belonged, and I think this�is the root of my bitterness. But�who really knows.

Anyways, I got sent to MO, and�hold a temporary, basement dwelling residence in KS. Lived one tough year, where�most students wanted�nothing to do with me�so�I faced rejection every day of my life.�When they finally started to accept me, the time was up,�but it was conveniently�just enough time to end things on a good note, and get my mind into a little more positive state that�would cause me to�hold some level of willingness to return. Problem is though, I come home to good ol NE and find myself longing to be living here. As is the case most time I come home. If I'm honest with myself, though, it could have a lot to do with the fact that I don't really have to work when I'm here. It is just all fun, games, rest and relaxation. What a life huh? Who wouldn't long for a life like this?

I do find it funny how the guys I go for are from my hometown. Josh, Mani, Amos...uhhh...maybe Bob. Okay let me put it this way, Amos and Bob offer a life in this town, and I like that. So though they are great, I think it's the simple lifestyle I'm attracted to. Bob and I have a ton in common. We could really have a blast together. I hope we can hang out as friends. I just reallllly wouldn't want to screw it up like I did with Amos. I still miss his friendship. He had great insight into my life. I miss that and need it. But stupid me went traipsing around shouting my stupid feelings and then went and blew the whole friendship to bits and pieces. Nice goin Ash.

Anyways, I'm out. Better do something considered productive.

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CraderChic98 27, Female, Louisiana, USA - 9 entries

May 2010
12:16 PM EDT

Eskimo

Hey Eskimos Are AWESOME!!!!!

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CraderChic98 27, Female, Louisiana, USA - 9 entries

May 2010
12:11 PM EDT

School

At School!!
B
O
R
I
N
G!!

Tags: BORING

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1 comment(s) - 03:13 PM - 05/12/2010

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whoami? 40, Female, Nebraska, USA - 60 entries

May 2010
7:18 AM CST

The fear of doing the "wrong" thing haunts me day in and day out. I put so much stress on myself just in trying to make decisions because I feel so pressured to make the "right" choice. Like somehow if I make the wrong one life will cease to exist as it has and I will have screwed it all up so badly that nothing will ever go right again and nothing will ever be the same as I know it. I fear taking the wrong job, going on the wrong trip, buying the wrong thing, eating the wrong foods, living in the wrong place, with the wrong people, saying the wrong things, and the list goes on and on. You see, the world exists in black and white for me, good and bad, right and wrong. I live at the extremes, all or nothing. I know the happy medium exists, but it seems utterly impossible for me to live in that realm. The point where nothing is all good or all bad, all happy or all sad, all right or all wrong, it just is, and the choices you make, if they are wrong, will not send you spiraling out of the spectrum completely, never able to return. I just want to be. I want to make decisions without all the pressure of it being the right thing or the wrong thing. I want to understand the balance between making wise choices today because they affect your tomorrows, but that you can only live for today, for tomorrow has enough worries of it's own. God help me.

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3 comment(s) - 08:33 PM - 05/20/2010

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